


the fate of the universe.

by goropankechi



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, NO COMFORT AT ALL, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Shuichi Saihara (implied), a big one, barely any proofreading haha, but you cant rlly hug a pancake can you, damn ignore all these random tags this is a serious fic i promise, does this count as saiouma, implied saiouma, literally just pure angst, literally the tiniest implied reference of saiharas existence trust me, v3 chapter 5 spoilers, who knows they dont even interact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goropankechi/pseuds/goropankechi
Summary: the problem of life wasn't life itself.it was that one day, the happiness of it all would come to an end.check tags/archive warnings for possible TWs!!
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	the fate of the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> this was completely birthed from the devastating late night thought of kokichi's last view before his death being the galaxy, reflected onto the top of the hydraulic press from kaito's coat underneath him, so don't expect anything wonderful :'D
> 
> thanks for at least clicking on this though! hope you enjoy <3

_The problem with life wasn't life itself._  
  


He had always damned it.

Living, he meant.

Everyone, everything. From the ones who stood by his side, to the ones who left it. From the things he had seen, to the things he hadn't.

He had always hated _everything_ about living.

As a slow, mechanical sound began growling above him, as the hard surface he laid on started trembling, he felt it. His face whitening. A slow, teasing shiver travelling along his spine. Was it fear? Regret? Simply the cold? He wasn't sure.

Kokichi Oma still wasn't totally sure of what he was doing.

He was lying there, shirtless, back-to-back with the cloak he had agreed to spend the last of his moments with. Back-to-back with the softness of the fabric, enveloped in the cold of the dark iron above him.

Everything had happened so fast.

The wound in his arm still stung him, eating him up from the inside, quite literally, the poison from earlier's arrow flowing through his veins and numbing his limbs as he breathed through the gut-wrenching feeling of multiple arrows being planted in his chest.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Somehow, his vision still felt blurry, somehow, his mind was still clogged with the knowledge these were his last moments, that everything would end soon. Although it didn't feel like they were. Nothing felt normal, but simultaneously, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The fog cleared up, and he could discern the upper part of the press slowly, carefully coming down. As if it didn't want to hurt Kokichi, as if it wanted to be gentle as it crushed him to nothingness. But they both knew it would be impossible to make it painless. It would be impossible to make death painless.

Nothing can ever be painless in life.

Kokichi's eyes remained riveted on the metal surface above him, watching as it approached him, a mental countdown forming itself as the iron came closer, and closer.

Constricted. Small. He felt powerless, eyes tearing up, hands clawing at the cloak underneath him as his teeth began chattering, the temperature seemingly dropping and whitening his skin even further.

Was it too late to turn back? Yes, yes it was. But even through the pain of claustrophobia, even through the burn of the poison swimming through his body, the thing that hurt the most was the idea of leaving his life behind, of leaving it all behind. What would come next? He didn't know. He didn't _care_.

Nobody would want to mourn his death anyway.

But then, he saw it. He saw _them_.

Stars.

Hundreds of them. Everywhere.

He could see himself, the dazed, pained look in his eyes, the purple tint of his hair fading amongst the dark light of the cosmos, the tears sliding down his eyes, the sweat forming against his forehead from the headache the poison brought onto him.

And all he could do was watch as the sky fell.

Was this the last thing he would ever see? He didn't know. He didn't _want_ to know.

He didn't want to know _anything_.

Kokichi felt his hands tremble.

Fear. Worry. Terror.

He snickered to himself. The Ultimate Supreme Leader, filled with dread? He never thought he would see the day. He didn't care about dying, about leaving it all behind.

Was that nothing more than a lie, as well? Was everything a lie?

The true problem with the universe was that one day, nothing would be there anymore.

But nobody wanted to believe that. Nobody wanted to believe Kokichi's ideology.

Everyone was fixed onto the feeble idea that the Creation would continue expanding forever, and ever, and ever. The refusal of admitting that the future would always hold more pain than the past.

But every good thing had an end.

And Kokichi hoped. Oh, he hoped, he prayed to the God he had always cursed. He begged. He begged for his dream of eternal happiness to be achieved, he pleaded for fields and flowers and an everlasting summer.

Was that his true dream, after all?

An existence with no consequences. An existence where all that awaited him was himself, the Sun, the Moon, and _him_.

Him.

He looked back up to the top of the press, the galaxies filling his teary eyes, one last thing to bask in, one last flush of warmth, of hope, before he closed his eyes. For the last time.

And maybe when he would open them back up, he would be basking in an undying summer, alongside the navy-haired detective he had been daydreaming of for so long.

Maybe that dream would come through. Maybe he'll get to spend the rest of eternity with someone trustworthy.

 _Trustworthy_.

He let out a smile, a pained sigh, letting one last thought roam his mind.

At least he wasn't boring, right?

The problem with life wasn't life itself.

It was that one day, the happiness of living would come to an end.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this!! i kinda wrote it on a whim without any planning and barely any proofreading, so yeah ;; hope this was good enough! as you can see im a bitch for angst ;)
> 
> please do leave kudos or a comment if you liked this!


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